99 Red Balloons
by custardpringle
Summary: A celebration leads to disaster. Major character death. FINISHED, R&R please
1. Author's note, disclaimer, song lyrics

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. Character death. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, this is depressing. Never thought I had this much morbidity in me. I think I've just ruined my favorite song.  
  
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There are many, many versions of this song. The lyrics I'm using are the Goldfinger version, minus the verse in German. Here they are, for future reference.  
  
You and I in a little toy shop/  
  
Buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got/ Set them free at the break of dawn/ Till one by one they were gone/ Back at base, bugs in the software/ Flash the message, "Something's out there"/ Floating in the summer sky/ 99 red balloons go by/  
  
99 red balloons/ Floating in the summer sky/ Panic bells, it's red alert/ There's something here from somewhere else/ The war machine springs to life/ Opens up one eager eye/ Focuses it on the sky/ Where 99 red balloons go by/  
  
99 Decision Street/ 99 ministers meet/ to hurry, worry, super scurry,/ call the troops out in a hurry/ This is what we've waited for/ This is it, boys, this is war/ The President is on the line/ As 99 red balloons go by/  
  
99 dreams I have had/ In every one a red balloon/ It's all over and I'm standing pretty/ In this dust that was a city/ If I could find a souvenir/ Just to prove the world was here/ And here is a red balloon/ I think of you and let it go  
  
Every fourth line in this slightly abridged version is a chapter heading, so chapter headings go with the part of the song to which a chapter roughly corresponds rather than directly matching the plot.  
  
Have fun, or as much as you can with this sort of story.  
  
By the way: I don't own these people. Wish I did, but I don't. Nor do I own "99 Red Balloons," or any of the myriad people who have sung it. 


	2. You and I in a little toy shop

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, major emotional pain CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. Character death. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTE: The entire fic won't be this syrupy. For those who came looking for pain and suffering on the parts of their beloved characters, have no fear; it will come. For those who aren't as fond of pain and suffering, this chapter can stand alone as a happy pointless sort of thing. I don't own these people. Wish I did, but I don't.  
  
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Daniel suspected his birthday had been forgotten again. He himself had only just remembered it, and not a single person had wished him "happy birthday" this morning. Unless, of course, he counted the pointless mission his team was about to go on as a birthday present, and that idea was tenuous at best.  
  
General Hammond had received a message yesterday from the Tok'ra indicating that the Goa'ould might suspect the location of the alpha site. This meant that a new site would have to be found, and SG-1 was being sent to scout a likely planet, P5X 942. The MALP had indicated that the Goa'ould had abandoned it centuries ago and that there were no natives, at least not near the gate.  
  
Right now, as he stood in the gate room witing for Davis to finish dialling, he was wondering why on earth they were going at all. It was just a routine scouting mission-any team could have handled it. Daniel had asked this in yesterday's briefing, but it had been Jack of all people who had quieted him. "Let it go," O'Neill had said. "It'll do us good to have a boring mission for once." Nobody else seemed to have a problem with it, which was surprising.  
  
Jack looked over and saw his friend's frown. "What's up, Daniel? Not enough coffee this morning?"  
  
"No, I had plenty of coffee, don't worry. However," Jackson asked again, "why precisely are we going and not, say, SG-14?"  
  
Jack's reply was drowned out by the roar of the Stargate as it activated. "SG-1," General Hammond announced over the speaker, "you are go. Good luck."  
  
"With what?" Daniel muttered, but nobody bothered to answer this time. Heaving a sigh of resignation, he stepped through the gate and onto the planet P5X-942, also known as Mikairna.  
  
The first thing he noticed was that the sun here was damn bright compared to the lighting in the gateroom. He didn't have much time to notice this, though, because Jack instantly yelled, "Close your eyes, Daniel!" and he instinctively obeyed.  
  
"What's going on?" There was no reply. Daniel heard an assortment of unusual noises, which he suspected he could have recognized were he not rapidly approaching panic. "Hello? Guys? Anyone?" After nearly a minute, curiosity finally got the best of his fear. He cracked open an eye and saw-  
  
his teammates standing facing him with broad grins on their faces, including Teal'c's. And Sam, who was in the middle, was holding-of all things-a birthday cake. A massive chocolate cake with mocha icing, candles and all. "Happy birthday," smiled Jack.  
  
Daniel let a grin of his own spread across his face as he realized he had been tricked. Then he grabbed the nearest loose object-in this case, a pair of binoculars-and threw it at Jack, who dodged neatly. "And here I thought everyone had forgotten my birthday and that you three had been hit with a stun grenade or something. Thanks, people."  
  
"And here I thought," O'Neill retorted, "that you'd be grateful that we'd remembered. Instead you try to knock me out. Such gratitude. Just blow out the damn candles, will ya?"  
  
Daniel was only too glad to do so.  
  
-----  
  
About half an hour later, the majority of the cake had disappeared into four very satisfied people. "Let me get this straight," Daniel was saying. "You faked intelligence from the Tok'ra, just to get this boring mission, just to have a surprise birthday party for me."  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
"In fact, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c suddenly remembered, "we have brought balloons as well."  
  
Jack sat up straighter and exlaimed around a mouthful of mocha icing, "Damn. I forgot them. Think Hammond would send them through if we radioed back to him?"  
  
"I don't mind," Jackson said, causing everyone else to look at him in surprise. "I mean . . ." He blushed suddenly. "If we're going to have Hammond send balloons, could they be red ones?"  
  
"Why red?" asked Carter curiously.  
  
"Well, do you guys know the song "99 Red Balloons?"  
  
Sam and Teal'c didn't. Jack cocked his head in thought. "Isn't that that German hippie song?"  
  
"Yeah," Daniel confirmed. "I've always wanted to release a big bunch of red balloons, like in that song, just to see what would happen."  
  
Sam shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She got up reluctantly, walked over to the parked MALP, and switched on the microphone. "General, we seen to have forgotten the balloons."  
  
"Understood, Major. We'll send some through."  
  
"And, sir, we specifically need red helium balloons. 99 of them to be precise."  
  
"Very well," the radio crackled in surprise. "I'll see to it."  
  
In a few minutes, the gate came to life. An enormous bunch of red balloons came through, anchored by a metal weight, and it flickered out again. Jack ran over and picked them up, the other three trailing behind him.  
  
Daniel took the balloons from O'Neill and carefully untied the strings so that the 99 red balloons drifted away, one by one.  
  
The four of them watched the balloons go.  
  
"Probably nothing at all will happen," said Jackson as they drifted away over the trees. "But it's nice just to have done that." 


	3. Back at base, bugs in the software

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. Character death. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm bad at inventing names for aliens. Bear with me, would you?  
  
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It had been many generations since the gods had left.  
  
Slarin often wondered whether they would ever return. It was common knowledge that the Others, in their usual stupidity, had conspired to drive them away from Mikairna. The gods-even the goddess Morrigan, who had particularly favored Slarin's village-had been angry at the Others' folly and abandoned the world altogether. Along with them had gone the Mikairnans' exceptional good health, brought by the divine Snakes, and much technology that had been crucial to the village's well-being.  
  
Slarin's people were still recovering, and the population had been going down ever since, according to the historical records remaining from the Gods' time. And all this havoc had been wreaked thanks to the Others. After that last deed on their part, all attempts at friendliness with the strange people had ended.  
  
The two villages had, in fact, been on the brink of war since Slarin's great-grandfather had been a boy. Another thing that had remained after the Gods' departure was a few extremely destructive machines. Some were smaller, shaped for a man to hold and carved in the form of the divine Snakes, and induced terrible pain or death for whomever they pointed towards.  
  
Others were much larger, and produced violent explosions upon strong enough impact with the ground. Slarin's people-and presumably the Others as well- had, in the time since the Gods' departure, been able to devise other machines that would throw these larger things a great distance.  
  
Neither village had attacked the other yet, but it was only a matter of time. Slarin was weapons-master for his village, entrusted with keeping the deadly machines constantly ready for battle. He knew that the Others could strike at any time.  
  
And, from the looks of it, this might well be the time. Slarin's young assistant, Pakla, had spotted a large group of strange objects floating over the trees this morning and panicked. She had come running to him immediately and panted out the news.  
  
"Slarin," she had told him, her eyes wide with fear, "the Others have invented something new. New machines. I've seen them!"  
  
"Calm down," he had instructed her, although his mind was already whirling with possibilities. "What have you seen?"  
  
Pakla had taken a deep breath. "I do not know. There were many of them above the trees, more than I could count, floating towards out village. They were bright red and round. Like enormous drops of blood, about-" she held her hands a shoulder's-width apart-"this wide. And each had a string coming from it."  
  
"Strange indeed," Slarin had mused. "And you think they come from the Others?"  
  
"From where else could they have come? It would be wonderful if I could claim they came from the Gods, but it has been so long since they returned. Their Ring has been dead for ever."  
  
"These machines must have been sent by the Others, then," he had said. "It seems to me that they must be spying on us, trying to find a weakness. Those red things, if they are truly so large, could easily conceal an advanced camera-" their people had only recently invented such a device- "and the strings you speak of could easily be an antenna to transmit images."  
  
Pakla had sunk into a chair. "If the Others are preparing to attack, what can we do?"  
  
"We must go to the Assembly and tell them what you have seen," Slarin had informed her. "They will be able to decide what we should do."  
  
-----  
  
It was afternoon now, and Slarin and Pakla were back in his office. Their discussion with the Assembly had lasted well through noontime, but the conclusion had been clear from the beginning. The only explanation-apart from the return of the Gods, which was highly improbable-was that the Others were planning to attack the village. Fortunately, thanks to weapons- master Slarin, they were ready to defend themselves.  
  
Well, not precisely to defend themselves. The Assembly had ultimately decided that the best course of action would be to attack the Others before the Others could attack them.  
  
This decision worried Pakla considerably. "What if the machines really are from the Gods?" she asked nervously. "Won't they be angry that we have destroyed the Others?"  
  
"Remember that it was the Others who drove the Gods away," Slarin assured her confidently. "If, by some miracle, the Gods truly have returned, they will be pleased at the deaths of the blasphemers. And if the Gods have not returned, then surely the Others are planning to attack us and we have saved our own village from destruction."  
  
Pakla nodded. "Very well, Slarin. I myself am still not sure, but I trust you. I will help you to prepare to destroy the Others."  
  
"I will be glad of your assistance," he said gratefully. "We are nearly ready, but there is still much work left for us to do. First, you must go out and tell everyone in the village of our danger. Assure them that they have nothing to fear from our own weapons and that the Others will soon be destroyed. And then perhaps the goddess Morrigan will be pleased and return to us. "  
  
She nodded bravely and ran out of the room. Slarin knew he had to prepare the machines to fire, but he still took a minute first to sit back in his chair and ruminate on the day's hectic events. After generations of tension, of worry, of uncertainty, things were finally coming to a head. And although Slarin would never have admitted it to Pakla or to anyone else, he was just as frightened as she was.  
  
What if the Others had better machines than they did? What if they had already launched them? Slarin realized now that his village was nowher near as prepared as it thought. If the Others had already launched the wepons to destroy his entire village, they wouldn't know until it was too late to do anything.  
  
And worse yet, what if the Others could not only see the machines partway there, but use their own to destroy them? What then?  
  
Slarin sighed and got up. He had too much work to worry about these things. 


	4. 99 red balloons

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. Character death warning. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry. I had this chapter written almost a week ago but then my Internet managed to crash. Damn Win95. And, BTW, I do know the translation of the fourth verse, but I still chose not to use it because it didn't really fit with my story. I have nothing whatsoever against German, or people who speak it, I just didn't want to use that part.  
  
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The remainder of the cake had long disappeared. Jack turned to look at Daniel. "Ya know, Danny, unlike you, I don't know German. Why don't you tell us what exactly happened in that song?"  
  
"Yeah," said Sam. "I've been wondering that myself."  
  
Daniel paused a second to remember. "Well, actually, the balloons show up as a radar blip at a nearby military base and are mistaken for enemy missiles, or maybe alien spaceships. A national crisis ensues, and, uh, this leads rather quickly to WWIII and the implied end of civilization as we know it."  
  
"Always did love a happy ending," commented O'Neill dryly.  
  
Teal'c frowned. "Such objects bear no resemblance to either alien spaceships or to weapons, Daniel Jackson."  
  
"Yeah, well, it was a pretty popular song, even though most people didn't even know what it was about."  
  
Seeing the Jaffa's look of confusion only deepen, Sam told him, "Don't worry about it, Teal'c. Just add it to the list of senseless things we humans do." She turned and looked at her commanding officer, who had stood up and was scanning the forest in the direction the balloons had gone. "Something wrong, sir?"  
  
"Carter," he responded, retrieving the binoculars Daniel had thrown at his head, "are you certain there's nobody living near here?"  
  
"Pretty much, sir. If there is anyone, they're well inside the woods where the MALP couldn't have found them."  
  
Jackson laughed. "Jack, do you seriously think . . . "  
  
"Yes, Daniel. I do." Jack peered through the binoculars as he spoke. "We don't want to make any problems here."  
  
"It's a song, for crying out loud."  
  
"And you expect me to take you seriously when you're using my pet expressions? Hell, I don't even take myself seriously half the time."  
  
"That's neither here nor there," Daniel said tiredly. "I don't think it's terribly likely that anything remotely like the events in that German hippie song, as you so eloquently called it, would ever happen in reality."  
  
"Look, Daniel, I agree with you, alright? I'm just not taking any chances with-" Jack broke off and swore softly. "Here, T. What do you think of this?"  
  
Teal'c took the glasses and looked in the indicated direction. "I am not sure. However, I do see a large clearing that may well be inhabited."  
  
O'Neill smiled smugly. "Told ya so."  
  
Carter took the binoculars. "In fact, sir, I think I see another clearing out there, some distance from the first."  
  
"Okay, kids," Jack decided. "Let's check this out.Daniel, you come with me to one of these places. Carter and Teal'c, go to the other. If there are people living here after all, we'd better talk to them."  
  
Looking forward to meeting some new people, the team geared up and left.  
  
-----  
  
Upon nearing the first of the two clearings, Sam and Teal'c discovered to their astonishment that it contained a thriving, seemingly independent village, and they promptly contacted the other two. "There are people living here after all," Carter reported.  
  
"What kind of people?" Daniel asked over the radio.  
  
"We don't know yet; we haven't had a chance to speak to any of them yet. But they don't look panicked or anything."  
  
"It is not likely that they have observed the balloons," Teal'c elaborated. "There appears to be no problem."  
  
"Talk to those people anyway," Jack told them. "Depending how long the Goa'ould have been gone, we might be able to learn something."  
  
"Yes, sir," Sam agreed.  
  
"We haven't gotten where we're going yet. We'll tell you when we do."  
  
"Sounds good, sir." She signed off.  
  
Teal'c had been examining the buildings in the village. "It appears that the Goa'ould have been absent for some time, most likely for several centuries. I do not know why."  
  
Carter nodded. "That's good for us, then. Let's meet these people and see what we can find out."  
  
----  
  
Jack and Daniel had to search for another fifteen minutes or so before they found the second clearing, which also contained a large, prosperous village. The people here, though, were anything but calm. The streets were filled with villagers running from house to house, shouting to those inside, who quickly emerged. Jack estimated that the entire population was probably in a panic by now. "Daniel-"  
  
"Jack, we don't know that this has anything to do with our balloons. Just give me a second, will ya?" Daniel stepped forward and touched a woman on the shoulder.  
  
She turned to look at him, shrieked, and continued running.  
  
Another attempt, with a young boy, was more successful; he and Daniel conversed for a few minutes.  
  
Finally, Jackson came back. "Damn."  
  
"What'd he tell you?" O'Neill asked.  
  
"Well, he says some people called the Others-probably the village where Sam and Teal'c are-are about to attack."  
  
"And he knows this . . . how?"  
  
"He claims," Daniel said heavily, "that the Others have sent them giant drops of blood, floating in the air." 


	5. The war machine springs to life

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'd much rather do this than my precalculus homework, but at least I get reviews-sorry, grades-on my homework. I can always go back to the math, if you'd prefer. (Hint, hint.)  
  
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Pakla hurried frantically from one house to the next, stopping at each one to inform her fellow villagers of the current crisis. Many of them panicked, and she found herself saying only too often, "There is nothing to fear. Weapons-master Slarin has ensured that we are more than prepared to deal with this attack. With luck, we will be able to prevent it before it even begins." Many other people left their homes to spread the news, and Pakla was grateful that her work had been thus lessened.  
  
Nearly everyone who heard this accepted it without question. Pakla's friend Arren, however, who had always been slower-acting and more thoughtful than most, did not. "What do you mean?" he asked her. "How can you prevent it?"  
  
Pakla sighed. She had hoped not to have to elaborate this far, but she should have known better than to try to fool Arren. "We will not even try to speak to them," she said finally. "We have our own weapons, and Slarin is preparing to fire them even as we speak. I must go back and help him." She turned to leave, trying to escape the questioning, but he grabbed her arm.  
  
"So you will simply destroy the Others."  
  
"Yes," Pakla admitted, trying to pull free of Arren's determined grip. "It is the only way to save ourselves."  
  
He cocked his head. "How do you know that? Have we even tried to speak to them, or them to us? You cannot be sure even that they truly plan to attack at all."  
  
She finally freed her arm. "I saw those machines in the air, Arren. They were the color of blood. How can they not have been a threat or, at the very least, a bad omen?"  
  
"A bad omen!" he scoffed. "You talk like an ancient. There are no such things as omens. They may have been a threat, true. But what good would it do them?"  
  
"We cannot afford to take the chance."  
  
Arren frowned. "So you will simply destroy an entire village, much like our own, simply because they may or may not be going to attack us."  
  
"They are not like ourselves," Pakla argued. "They are heretics and rebels. They defied the goddess and forced her to leave. Perhaps if we destroy them, she will be pleased and return."  
  
"You know well that, like them, I do not believe that Morrigan was a goddess, and that I would rather she did not return." He spread his hands. "Do you believe that I should die as well?"  
  
She shook her head in confusion. "No, of course not."  
  
"And why not? What difference is there between them and me?"  
  
"You," Pakla reminded him, "are not our enemy."  
  
"By your definition, it would seem that I am." He took her by the shoulders, more gently this time. "I worry about you, Pakla. You must be careful of listening to Slarin; he takes his job too seriously, and he may get us all into trouble. Be careful."  
  
"I will," she promised, and hugged him. "I must return to work with him now, though. Goodbye."  
  
-----  
  
On her way back to rejoin Slarin, Pakla noticed two men enter the village. They were dressed strangely, carrying all sorts of strange devices, even some over their eyes that might be to protect from the sun-quite ingenious, come to think of it. The other villagers hurrying through the streets seemed to ignore them, except for one small boy. They had stopped him in his path, and one of the men was asking him questions. The boy didn't seem to be frightened, so Pakla guessed the two strangers were probably friendly. Perhaps she might speak to them herself.  
  
Once the boy had gone on his way, though, doubt struck her. Small children were so trusting, after all. Perhaps the Others had sent actual human spies. She decided to approach them anyway, but to be especially careful. With luck, the child hadn't told them anything dangerous.  
  
Pakla finally got to the men, who were now conversing animatedly with each other, after a few difficult minutes of pushing through a rapidly growing throng in the street. (She hoped there wouldn't be a panic; it would make things so much more difficult.) The best thing, she resolved, would just be to ask them directly who they were.  
  
Pakla tapped one of the men on the back. He jumped slightly, then turned to face her. "What?"  
  
She stiffened slightly at the gruff reception, but resolutely asked, "Are you Others?"  
  
"Yes," the man said.  
  
"No," said his companion at the same time.  
  
She looked from one to the other in confusion.  
  
The second man quickly explained, "Well, if you mean people from the other village, then no. But yes, we are from another place."  
  
Pakla relaxed. "I referred to people from the other village. But where else could you come from?"  
  
"From another planet, actually."  
  
"Another planet? How?"  
  
He started to answer, but the first man hit him lightly. "We don't have time for this, Daniel. Just give her the 'take me to your leader' spiel and we'll see if we can sort this out."  
  
"Is Daniel your name?" she asked curiously.  
  
He nodded affirmatively. "And this is Jack. Ignore him, he'll cheer up in a second. What's your name?"  
  
"Hey!" Jack protested.  
  
Pakla smiled; these seemed like nice enough people. "I'm Pakla. If you want to meet our leaders, well, the Assembly is quite busy right now-you've heard that the Others may be attacking?"  
  
"Yeah, we've heard," Jack said. "That's why we're here."  
  
"In that case, they may be able to spare a moment for you. I will take you there." 


	6. 99 Decision Street

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTE: At the time I wrote this chapter, I had the song "Bad Day" by REM stuck in my head. Worse things could happen. And, on a more relevant note, Gaelic is a massively cool language. And, on an even more relevant note, please, please review. --------------------------------------------------  
  
Jack and Daniel were deeply impressed by the Assembly. It was an enormous building, obviously designed so that it could hold the entire population of the village if necessary. A substantial fraction of that population had indeed taken shelter here, perhaps believing it would somehow protect them from the attacking Others. One end of the room held a few long tables at which the few dozen people comprising the Assembly were seated. There was an empty space immediately in front of them, and it was to this spot that Pakla led them.  
  
The animated discussion among the Assembly gradually died down at the sight of the three people standing before them. Many other people crowded around as well to watch the proceedings. The woman seated in the center of the front row stood and demanded, "Pakla, are you back so soon? You should be with the Weapons-master, helping him with the machines to destroy the others."  
  
Daniel spoke up. "Youíre just going to destroy them, without a second thought?"  
  
Pakla glanced at him, surprised at the echo of what Arren had said only a few minutes ago. Then the Assembly member turned a frosty glare on her. "What is the meaning of this? Why have you brought these strangers here, uninvited? We have far more urgent things to deal with."  
  
Pakla gulped. "They claim they can help us thwart the Others' attack, Lim. On those grounds I believed they might be of interest to you."  
  
"Very well," Lim sighed. "But you should return to your work."  
  
Pakla ducked her head and ran out.  
  
Lim turned back to Jack and Daniel. "What do you have to say? How can you help us?"  
  
"Actually," Jack informed her, "we want to tell you to call off your attack entirely."  
  
Several Assembly members gasped, and a storm of muttering broke out among the Assembly and the clusters of watching public. Lin leaned forward. "And why might we do that? Are you saying that we should not defend ourselves from impending doom?"  
  
"That's the thing," Daniel said. "There is no impending doom."  
  
"You lie," she accused. The muttering grew louder.  
  
"No, we don't," O'Neill contradicted. "We are absolutely telling the truth."  
  
"Then what were those machines Pakla, along with many others, saw this morning? I myself caught a glimpse of them. They were entirely unlike anything native to this village. From where else could they have come but from the Others?"  
  
"They came from us," Jackson explained.  
  
"From you," Lim repeated. "Then what are they?"  
  
"They're only toys," Daniel confessed.  
  
"We didn't think anyone lived on this planet," Jack elaborated. "We were just messing around. Those things aren't even machines. They just float around and look good."  
  
She squinted incredulously. "This planet, you said? You claim to have come from another planet?"  
  
"We do, and we did," Daniel affirmed. "We came here from our own planet through the Stargate."  
  
"Stargate?"  
  
"You might call it the Chappa'ai. That big round thing, outside the forest."  
  
Conversation broke out again, louder than ever. "The Ring of the Gods?" Lim asked suspiciously. "That has been dead for generations, and then it was used only by the goddess Morrigan and her attendants. Surely you do not claim to be Morrigan, or to serve her."  
  
"Definitely not. In fact," O'Neill said, ignoring an urgent nudge from his friend, "to tell the truth, we're not terribly fond of her."  
  
Daniel heaved a resigned sigh and muttered, "Great, Jack. Just great. You've just completely killed what little credibility we had with this woman."  
  
Lim did not, in fact, look particularly pleased. "What reason have I to believe you? You have given me a highly implausible story, and you claim to be enemies of our Goddess. It seems more likely that you are agents of the Others, sent to prevent us from rightly defending ourselves against your attack."  
  
"We're not enemy spies," Daniel insisted. "We're just trying to keep you from destroying the Others for no reason."  
  
He and Jack were temporarily rescued from an argument they were obviously losing by the crackle of his radio. "Hey, Daniel," Sam's voice came through. "We could use your help over here."  
  
Jackson looked questioningly up at Lim. She nodded reluctantly. "Go ahead, but be brief.  
  
"Thanks. What do you need, Sam?"  
  
"The people here don't speak English. I think their language is kind of like Gaelic, but I do't speak it and I was hoping you could translate for us."  
  
"That would make sense," Daniel told her. "The people here do speak English, and apparently this planet was controlled by Morrigan, who's based herself on a Celtic goddess. And yes, I do speak Gaelic." Lim raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. He turned to Jack. "Do you mind if I join them?"  
  
"Yeah, go ahead. I'll stay here and see if I can knock some sense into these people." Jack rolled his eyes.  
  
Daniel smiled. "Good luck."  
  
"You may depart," Lim told him. "I have no truly good reason to believe you are a spy. However, keep in mind that I have no better reason to believe you are not."  
  
"Thanks. I'll be back soon," Daniel said, and hurried out.  
  
He just barely avoided crashing into Slarin, who came running into the building at that same moment. 


	7. This is what we've waited for

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: none AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have absolutely nothing whatsoever to say about this chapter.  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
No sooner had Daniel left than another man came in and was instantly recognized by Lim. "Hello, Weapons-master. I hope you bring good news."  
  
"I do," Slarin told her excitedly. "Pakla and I have fully prepared the machines. We are prepared to launch them at your command."  
  
"Excellent work, Slarin," she approved, pausing only an instant to glance at Jack before continuing, "You may proceed."  
  
"Very well." He left as hastily as he had come, looking distinctly cheerful for someone who was about to destroy a large number of people.  
  
"Crap." Jack grabbed for his radio, not even bothering to look for Lim's permission. "Carter, get out of there. Now."  
  
"Yes, sir. May I ask why?"  
  
He paused as the building trembled from a series of loud bangs-the missiles launching. "Your position has just been fired on, Major. I estimate you have less than a minute to get as far away as possible."  
  
-----  
  
Daniel also heard the weapons being launched just as he reached the edge of the village. He stared up as perhaps a dozen of the machines whizzed high over his head, knowing that, whatever came of this, it couldn't be good. He too switched on his radio, caught the tail end of the conversation, and then asked, "What should I do?"  
  
Jack thought for a second. "Keep heading the way you're going and meet up with Carter and Teal'c, who should be coming this way. I want the three of you to get back to the gate and wait for me there."  
  
"Look, Jack, what exactly are you hoping to accomplish? They've already launched. There's nothing we can do."  
  
"Yeah, but I can still knock some sense into them. It won't save the other village, but if these people realize what they've really done then maybe they won't be so damn trigger happy from now on."  
  
-----  
  
Sam and Teal'c got lucky; they hadn't ventured very far into the village, and were able to get a few hundred meters into the woods before the weapons arrived. Sam looked away so as not to see the destruction, but the Jaffa turned her back and pointed upward. "Major Carter, I do not believe these people will be killed after all."  
  
The village had launched its own, smaller set of missiles, which sought out the attackers and detonated each bomb safely in midair. Carter smiled in delight. "This village must be more technologically advanced than the other. It's strange; there's no sign of advanced technology anywhere in sight, and yet they have an extremely sophisticated defense system."  
  
"It may be that they are only sophisticated in weaponry," Teal'c pointed out. "I suspect that there has been tension between these two villages for quite some time."  
  
Sam opened her mouth to reply, but was quickly distracted by the sound of more missiles being launched. And from the size of them, they weren't just defensive, either.  
  
Déjà vu all over again, she thought sourly, and flipped the switch. "Sir, this village just fired on yours. You may want to leave now."  
  
"Gotcha, Carter," the colonel answered. "Thanks."  
  
-----  
  
Lim, who had heard the entire exchange, smiled. "Another deception, of course," she asserted confidently. "There is no way the Others could have escaped our weapons. They have been destroyed. You cannot fool me."  
  
Jack ran for the door, calling over his shoulder, "It's true. You tried to get them back for something they didn't do in the first place, and now it's come back to bite you in the ass."  
  
She blinked at the unfamiliar expression, but got the gist well enough. "Your people are dead, spy. You have nowhere else to go. Guards-"  
  
Two menacing-looking men stepped forward to block the exit, aiming some sort of unfamiliar weapon directly at O'Neill. He too swiftly drew his weapon. "For crying out loud, what are you people thinking? We're all going to die within about thirty seconds unless we get outa here. Fast."  
  
Lim shook her head obstinately. "The Others are dead. We have destroyed them."  
  
"No, you haven't," Jack said desperately. "They dodged your attack somehow. And they're really pissed now. So unless you've got something I don't know about, we're all about to be wiped out."  
  
She shook her head sadly. "You have already failed in your object, and yet you keep trying. Were you not my enemy, I might be impressed."  
  
-----  
  
Not to far outside the village, Daniel saw more missiles coming over his head-but this time much lower, and going in the opposite direction. "Jack," he yelled into the radio, "now would be an excellent time to leave."  
  
-----  
  
Jack heard.  
  
But it was too late to do anything about it.  
  
He had just enough time to gloat that Lim finally, for once, didn't look so sure of herself any more.  
  
Then the world exploded around him. 


	8. 99 dreams I have had

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. Character death. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: "Prisoners" AUTHOR'S NOTE: Watch out. This is an incredibly miserable chapter involving some rather, ah, unpleasant imagery, severe angst, maiming, and slow painful deaths, including that of a major character. People who cry or throw up easily should skip this part.  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
As the bombs began to hit, a process that lasted for several minutes, Daniel instinctively threw himself to the ground. When the cacophony finally ceased, he got up slowly, staring back through the trees to where the village was.  
  
At least, where it had been.  
  
He bent down and retrieved his radio. "Sam? You still there?"  
  
"I hear you, Daniel. What happened?"  
  
"This village just got bombed. Probably retaliation from the one you visited."  
  
"They did indeed just fire their weapons. Are you all right, Daniel Jackson?" asked Teal'c.  
  
"Yeah, I'm okay. I got out, but Jack-" Daniel took a deep breath. "Jack was still in there. I'm going back in to look for him."  
  
"Be careful," Sam said anxiously. "We'll get there as soon as we can."  
  
"Hurry." He switched the radio off and walked back to the village.  
  
-----  
  
What he found there was unbelievable. Compared to this, that prison camp they had been in a few years ago was an absolute paradise.  
  
Within the space of a few minutes, the active, bustling community had come to look more like a living hell, even down to the fires burning everywhere because there was no one to extinguish them. It looked like every inhabitant of the village had been seriously injured. The lucky ones had died instantly. The rest were screaming, crying, pleasing for aid from the inexplicably unharmed stranger moving in their midst. The shrieks tore at Daniel's heart, but he only shuddered and walked faster, knowing he could do nothing but hope, for their sakes, that they died soon. He could only trust that, by some miracle, Jack would somehow be all right.  
  
He hurried towards the Assembly, where he had last seen his friend. One of the bombs had hit an end of the massive building, and Daniel's heart sank as he saw the extent of the damage; half the structure had been demolished. Nevertheless, he walked inside and called, "Jack?"  
  
Something stirred in response at the other end of the hall. He tried again. "Jack? Are you in here?"  
  
This time, he was rewarded with a groan and a faint, hoarse "Daniel?" from a figure crumpled at the far end of the hall.  
  
"I'm coming." Daniel picked his way as quickly as he could through the maze of wreckage, bodies-some still not quite dead and moaning piteously-and small conflagrations to where O'Neill lay. From the looks of it, the force of the explosion had hurled him against the far wall, and neither party had come off well. A portion of the wall had splintered, and a few feet underneath it Jack was huddled in a fetal position. It was painfully obvious that he had broken both legs, at least one arm, and most of his ribs, and there was a large, heavily bleeding gash on his temple. His breathing was slow and irregular, with the loud rasp to it that almost always indicated internal bleeding.  
  
Daniel sank to his knees in horror next to his friend's broken body. "Oh, my God."  
  
"Daniel?" Jack whispered again, uncurling slightly to reach out and weakly grasp the other man's hand in his own.  
  
Jackson gripped it firmly. "I'm right here, Jack. Sam and Teal'c'll arrive soon. They'll get help."  
  
Jack shook his head slightly. The movement caused him to vomit suddenly, retching up an unbelievable amount of blood along with a mixture of other substances that Daniel didn't even want to be able to identify. "Danny," he wheezed, "can't feel m'legs . . . "  
  
"It'll be OK," Daniel insisted, as much for his own sake as for Jack's. If his spine was damaged as well, that wasn't going to help matters. "You'll make it."  
  
O'Neill's fingers tightened slightly around his. "Don't think so." Daniel had to strain to hear his voice. "Not this time."  
  
"Hang on, Jack," Jackson urged desperately. "Just a few more minutes. Don't give up on me."  
  
Jack smiled a little, incongruously. "Thanks, Spacemonkey," he whispered, and then his hand went limp in Daniel's.  
  
"Dammit, Jack . . . Please don't die. Please." Daniel gingerly checked for a pulse with his free hand.  
  
There was none.  
  
"No," he said. "No." But there was no denying the truth.  
  
Daniel Jackson bowed his head and wept.  
  
-----  
  
Ten minutes later, when Sam and Teal'c finally got there, they found Daniel still kneeling there, utterly motionless, holding Jack's hand.  
  
"Daniel," said Sam quietly, "what happened?" There was no response.  
  
"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c repeated more loudly. Jackson still didn't stir.  
  
Finally, Sam walked up cautiously and touched him on the shoulder. "Daniel? Are you all right?"  
  
Slowly, Daniel finally looked up. His face was covered with ash from the fires burning in the building, and the ash was streaked with tears. "Of course I'm all right," he spat bitterly. "My best friend just died a violent, painful death. And because of a bunch of balloons, of all things. Why the hell shouldn't I be all right?"  
  
Teal'c had knelt beside Jack's body. "He is indeed dead," he confirmed.  
  
"Oh . . ." Sam's voice trailed off as the horrific sight in front of her finally, inescapably, sank in. She sat down with the rest of her team, removing her cap as she did so.  
  
The three friends remained silent for a while, silently honoring their fallen comrade. 


	9. If I could find a souvenir

TITLE: 99 Red Balloons AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering CATEGORY: drama, angst SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. Character death. (Based on the song.) SPOILERS: "The Light", "Cold Lazarus" AUTHOR'S NOTE: Any errors in German are solely the responsibility of the website where I found the lyrics; same thing goes for the "The Light" flashback. Ray Bradbury is one of my favorite authors, and "Something Wicked This Way Comes" my favorite of all his work.  
  
Hope you liked this story; if so, please say something. C'mon, it takes about thirty seconds. If you didn't like it, go ahead and swear at me, it makes excellent motivation for me to write better.  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
"Daniel!"  
  
Receiving no answer, Sam advanced further into his apartment, closing the door behind her; the fact that it had been left unlocked was alarming in itself. Daniel himself was slumped on the sofa, eyes closed, listening intently to the music blaring out of the stereo. She didn't know much German, but she was able to understand it enough to recognize the lyrics:  
  
" . . . Haute zieh ich meine Runden  
She die Welt in Truemmem liegen  
Hab' nen Luftballon gefunden  
Denk' and Dich und lass' ihn fliegen"  
  
The CD player whirred slightly, and the song started again. A chill went down Sam's spine as she realized her friend had been listening to it over and over, probably for hours. Maybe even longer; a concerned neighbor in the hall had told her Daniel hadn't been seen in days. And the floor was wearing what looked like almost a week's worth of beer cans. Jesus Christ.  
  
"99 Luftballons . . ."  
  
The song was starting to bother her, and she paused the disc. This finally seemed to get Daniel's attention. He opened his eyes tiredly, looking amazingly sober. "What do you want?"  
  
Sam sat down on the sofa next to him. "You missed the funeral."  
  
"I couldn't," he explained. "I didn't think it was right for me to go to Jack's funeral, seeing as I killed him. So I've just been sitting here, trying to drink myself into oblivion." Daniel gestured at the litter around him. "As you can see, I haven't succeeded. Yet."  
  
She stared at him, aghast. "Do you seriously think that?"  
  
"I killed him," he repeated stubbornly. "Him and that entire village."  
  
Sam shook her head, noting as she did so that he was getting more coherent. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. None of us could."  
  
"Just to see what would happen," he quoted himself, and laughed sourly.  
  
"It was your birthday," she argued. "You were entitled to some balloons to celebrate."  
  
Daniel closed his eyes again. "At the price of hundreds of innocent lives? Including Jack? Nope, sorry. What did I expect would happen, if anything? God knows. I was just bored. All I wanted was to let loose ninety-nine red balloons, and I never thought there was any chance things would actually turn out like in the song. I never meant to kill anyone, but I did."  
  
"Daniel-"  
  
He cut her off. "And you can stop telling me it wasn't my fault. You know damn well I could probably be court-martialed for this if I weren't a civilian."  
  
Sam gripped Daniel by both shoulders. "Snap out of it. You made a decision based on incorrect information. There's no way you could be held responsible."  
  
"Officially, no. Otherwise Hammond would've kicked me out by now. But, ultimately, I was the one who wanted those damn balloons, and look where it got me. Where it got Jack. Where it got all of us, and an entire village whose only mistake was being a bit too paranoid." He hung his head. "There was this one boy we met, Sam. He was just a little kid, and he was scared shitless because someone had told him there were giant drops of blood floating in the air, headed towards his village. Worst of all, that someone was right, and now that little kid is dead, along with everyone else he ever knew. And here I always thought Jack was too hard on himself about Charlie."  
  
She hugged him tightly. "Daniel, I'm sorry."  
  
"You're sorry?" he asked incredulously. "What do you have to be sorry for? Did you just kill a few hundred people by having a birthday?"  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam said, "because I should've come sooner. I had no idea you were giving yourself this enormous guilt trip."  
  
"And will be for some time yet, I promise you." Daniel smiled grimly. "Come back in a month or so, and maybe I'll be feeling better."  
  
"Hang on, Daniel," she told him. "You'll get through this. I promise."  
  
"That's what I said," Daniel whispered. "I told him to hang on. But he couldn't."  
  
"We'll manage," Sam promised. "I'll be around if you want to talk."  
  
"Thanks." He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. "Look, Sam, no offense, but I'd really like to be alone right now."  
  
"I thinks you've been alone too much recently," she said with concern.  
  
"Don't worry. I just want to clean up in here. Tell you what," he added as she got up to leave, "why don't you and Teal'c come over later tonight. We can get a movie, or something."  
  
"All right," Sam agreed. "I'll go back to base and tell him. Although-" she bit her lip-"it might be kind of strange with only three of us."  
  
Daniel nodded slowly. "I know. But it'll be better than nothing. And, Sam?"  
  
She paused on her way out the door. "Yes?"  
  
"How was the funeral?"  
  
Sam considered this for a minute-how did one qualify a funeral, anyway? "He would've approved," she said finally.  
  
"Good."  
  
-----  
  
A few minutes after Sam left, Daniel finally summoned the energy to get off the couch, but found progress impeded by the junk on the floor. He couldn't believe he'd drunk that much beer-but then again, who else would have? Maybe Jack had snuck in and-no, wait. Never mind.  
  
Jack wasn't drinking beer any more, in Daniel's apartment or anywhere else.  
  
As he was cleaning up the mess, he noticed the CD player, still paused and flashing the number on the display. He contemplated the blinking light for a while before crossing the room to switch the machine off, and it gave him, by some obscure process, an idea.  
  
-----  
  
The man behind the counter at the party store was somewhat surprised by a request for a single helium balloon-red, specifically, the customer was quite insistent-but he provided the item readily, although he was disappointed that no explanation was forthcoming.  
  
-----  
  
Daniel sat at his kitchen table, staring tiredly at the blank slip of paper in front of him. He knew he had to write something on it, but what that something should be he couldn't decide.  
  
Finally, he got up and began running a finger along the bookshelf, thinking that at least, if he couldn't come up with something original, he could at least use an appropriate quote. Finally, the finger stopped, and he smiled slightly as he lifted the book form the shelf and carried it back to the table. Bradbury was one of his favorite authors-but it was a preference he had picked up from Jack. In fact, Daniel remembered, this book, a novel titled "Something Wicked This Way Comes," had been a present from Jack a few years ago. Nothing could be more appropriate. And it didn't take long to find something-not in the book itself, though, as it turned out, but in a speech reprinted in a newspaper article he had clipped and stowed inside the book some time ago.  
  
Daniel picked up his pen again, and wrote:  
  
'We were put here as witnesses to the miracle of life. We see the stars, and we want them. We are beholden to give back to the universe . . . If we  
make landfall on another star system, we become immortal.'  
  
Then he tied the slip to the balloon string and took it outside to his balcony.  
  
When had he last been out here? Not for a while. Years, maybe. Not since-  
  
~~~~~  
  
"What are you doing out here?"  
  
"None of it means anything."  
  
"Um, Daniel, why don't you come inside here?"  
  
"I tried. It just goes away."  
  
"Okay, then we'll get it back."  
  
"You can't get it back."  
  
"Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it."  
  
"You don't even know what I'm talking about."  
  
"No. No, I don't. But come inside."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Another debt he owed Jack that he'd never be able to repay. Damn.  
  
Daniel jerked himself roughly back to the present and glanced once more at the red balloon in his hand.  
  
He thought of Jack, and let it go . . . 


End file.
